


Best Laid Plans

by MnemonicMadness



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Machine, Civilian Harold, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Harold misses him, John is overseas, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pining, Reunion, Romance, Separation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, because why not, it's really just 4k of cheesy romance, mostly just all the fluff, nathan is alive, soldier John, very light though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 18:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11258838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnemonicMadness/pseuds/MnemonicMadness
Summary: John is deployed overseas and Harold misses him. He always does, though on some days it is harder to bear than on others. Today is one of those days. Luckily, John has a surprise for him.Based onthis Tumblr prompt.





	Best Laid Plans

It was with a small sigh of relief that Harold closed the door of his penthouse behind him, shutting out the constant barrage of noise that was New York City. His hip ached, there was a cramp in his neck and he could already feel the beginnings of a headache. Silence embraced him, but instead of being as comforting as he’d hoped, it made the ache that overshadowed all others his damaged body plagued him with - the one in his _heart_ \- all the more prominent.

Loneliness.

By any means, Harold had never been anywhere close to being what could possibly be construed as a social person, but thanks to his best friend Nathan, he had rarely been all that lonely. And ever since finding the love of his life in John, he had had a taste of true happiness, the soldier filling whatever loneliness had been left in his life, adding the last missing piece. But John was away. Most days he kept himself busy with work, staying at his private, hidden office in IFT until Nathan threatened to physically kick him out so he’d get some rest - old injuries from the car crash or no. Most days, that was enough.

Today was not one of most days. There was a sharp wind blowing outside, chasing heavy, grey clouds over the sky that threatened to pour down a cold drizzle at any moment now, the exact weather it had been the day he’d first met John. Today, he felt his love’s absence keenly and he’d left his office early instead so he could go and curl up on the couch of his too quiet home.

If John had been here, he would have been greeted by clattering noises coming from the kitchen and the smell of one of John’s delicious, home-cooked meals. He would have paused for a second to inhale and appreciate the scent before he would have been greeted by man himself. John would have smiled that bright, beautiful, adoring smile he reserved just for Harold, looking at him like he was his entire world and he knew the exact same expression could have been found on his own face. Then, he would have wrapped his arms around Harold, holding him close while they exchanged kisses that were quite possibly a bit too enthusiastic for a normal couple’s greeting - not that either of them would ever mind. Even after years, none of the thrill of their relationship had ever faded, instead they both seemed to fall more for the other with each passing day, even those they spent apart.

Harold opened his eyes, only now noticing that he’d closed them, and looked glumly into his quiet, dark, lonely penthouse. The rustling of his coat seemed too loud in the silence. He knew that John needed the army, needed the purpose it gave him, he was a soldier and Harold would never resent him for that. It was part of who he was, of what made him the man Harold had hopelessly, completely, irrevocably fallen for and he’d never so much as think of trying to change him, but on days like today, days when he couldn’t push the feeling aside with even his most compelling projects, it still did nothing to lessen the ache of missing him.

He sighed again. The light switch clicked and the lamps flooded their home with their warm light, but that didn’t make his surroundings seem less dark and gloomy. No artificial light in this world would ever come close to the radiance of John’s smile. He shook his head at himself. Nathan was right, he _was_ pining. Not that this fact was one he hadn’t been all too aware of, of course he was pining whenever John was away, but it was not something he particularly liked to admit.

There was still some of yesterday’s take-out in the fridge, but today he would forego it, - he could almost hear John tutting at him about proper nutrition with how much he tended to overwork himself, although Harold was well aware that the soldier also plainly had a thing for his belly - he wouldn’t be able to stomach it anyway. Yesterday he’d made the unwise decision to buy from John’s favourite place. Today called for more extreme measures of comfort. He made his way into their bedroom first.

In passing, as always, he glanced at his phone which predictably remained silent. John always made sure to contact him whenever he could, but considering his placement in special forces, unfortunately that still wasn’t all that often. His last phone call - oh how Harold missed his quiet, even, rough voice - had been five days ago, informing him about his upcoming mission as much as he was permitted to, which mainly restricted him to sharing only the information that he _had_ a mission but no details beyond that. Of course, Harold could simply hack into the military’s communication network, but that would pose a risk of discovery and as he knew from experience, he’d only wind up making himself even more worried.

John would take care of himself. Whatever and however long it took, he would come back to Harold. He was no more a man of faith than he was a social person, but he knew John, knew that there was no one else more deserving of his faith.

 _Just three more months_ , he told himself, pushing the worry aside. 89 days, to be precise. 89 days until John would be back home, back in his arms. 89 days until he could hold him close once again, listen to his voice without the static of a satellite phone distorting it, kiss his lips, make love to him. And this time, John would be back for good, having come to the decision that his current one would be his last overseas tour. As much as he would never begrudge the soldier his work, it would be a lie to claim he wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect of having him by his side permanently instead of the short months between his tours before being separated again. And although he would always wait for John and every day he spent waiting was more than worth every second they got to spend together, he would certainly not miss the wait and the worry during it even less so.

Neither would he miss _missing him this badly_. Like he had filled in the last missing piece of Harold’s life, in his absence he took that piece with him, making Harold keenly aware just how big that piece was. It was more than just a part of his life, it felt as though a part of _himself_ was missing. One he could survive but never truly _live_ without.

Stepping into their bedroom, he stripped himself out of his immaculate suit - black with a grey waistcoat and a plain white shirt, the only dash of colour being the blue paisley tie he loved because the colours reminded him of John’s eyes. Nathan was right, he did dress significantly less colourful during the times John was away.

Undressing was always an uncomfortable endeavour for him, fused neck stiff and having to work around his injured hip. He missed the way John undressed him, be it in the evening to get changed for the night, for slow, romantic love-making, or even the times they were both lightheaded and drunk with sudden passion, John would always do so with an air of reverence that took Harold’s breath away. Like he was unwrapping a precious gift he had waited and longed for all his life, still not quite able to believe he had finally received it.

Still feeling somewhat chilled after the harsh wind outside, he decided to leave his undershirt on. Folding the suit and depositioning it on his nightstand, he walked over to the left side of their wardrobe. John’s side.

This was not something he allowed himself to do often, but considering how miserable with yearning and heartache he’d been all day, it was warranted. Sparing the plain suits and dress shirts his partner preferred just a short glance, he reached for the shelf containing his work-out clothes instead, pulling out the pair of black sweatpants and the grey sweatshirt John used for his morning runs on colder days.

Closing the wardrobe, he sat on their bed to pull them on. He had to roll up a good portion of the arms and pantlegs so he could see his hands and wouldn’t trip. With how much smaller he was than his partner, the sweatshirt hung off him like a wet sack, reaching down to his mid-thighs. He looked utterly ridiculous, but no one would see him like this. The worn fabric was soft and warm and chased away the goosebumps that had covered his skin for hours now. Pulling the sweatshirt up, he breathed deeply into the collar, smelling dust and fabric softener and something uniquely _John_ that had permanently seeped into the fabric. Catching more of that beloved scent with every breath, he calmed and finally, warm comfort settled soothingly over his aching heart. The longing and loneliness was as strong as it had always been, but he didn’t quite feel like he could burst into tears with it at any given moment anymore.

89 more days. With a small groan he got up but hesitated before leaving the room. He glanced at his nightstand. Having already decided to dedicate this evening to creature comforts, he figured he might as well give in to the sudden urge and limped over to it, opening its small drawer. There, in the front left corner was the box. A classic, plain, simple black one. He took it out and turned it between his fingers before opening it like he had done over and over again since he had bought it.

Of course, it was its content rather than the box itself that held the significance. The ring it contained was rather simple as well, his life’s love was not the type for flashy displays of wealth. It was made of platinum and not too thick, so it wouldn’t bother its intended wearer, with a small, square-cut diamond insetted in it being the only adornment.

In 89 days, he would be waiting for John when he stepped off the plane that would carry him back. He would spend long but simultaneously too short minutes kissing him hello before they would get into his car to drive home. On the way, he would pull over at Queensboro Bridge and ask John to join him on the bench where they had met for the first time.

In 89 days, he would ask John Reese to marry him.

Harold had little doubt that John would say yes and that day was still too far away, still he could neither help the small smile at the thought, nor the flutter of nervous anticipation in his heart. With one last glance at the engagement ring, he snapped the box shut, feeling its weight in his hand for a moment before slipping it into the pocket of the sweatpants.

He was still tracing the outline of the box when he stepped into their kitchen, trying to distract himself from the hollowness in his heart by imagining how the ring might look on John’s calloused yet elegant hand. How it would feel to wake up every morning by his side, knowing it was there, knowing they would wake up together for the remainder of their lives. A beautiful thought made bittersweet by the longing it failed to curb.

The kitchen seemed too large to him. Harold had largely relied on canned goods, take-away and microwave ovens to obtain nourishment for the majority of his life. It was John who had insisted on a spacious kitchen and Harold, bribed by the prospect of more of his delicious cooking, had agreed quite readily. But despite his partner’s best - and truly enjoyable - attempts at teaching him, this particular skill remained outside his area of expertise, so this room remained largely unused during the time of John’s deployments.

Ignoring the leftovers in the fridge just below it, Harold opened the freezer instead and after a moment’s consideration, decided to forego an extra bowl as well, simply taking a spoon and the entire tub of chocolate ice cream with him to the living room.

With the remote and a blanket, he curled up in a corner of their sofa as tightly as his permanent injuries allowed him. It didn’t take him long to select a movie to watch. Perhaps it would have appeared to be a rather strange choice to anyone else considering the reason for his need for comfort, but his genre of choice for this particular mood were bad war movies - the less realistic the better.

Wrapped in John’s scent, feeling the delicious chocolate ice cream melt on his tongue and emotionally exhausted, it fortunately didn’t take very long for him to become immersed in the admittedly quite idiotic plot. With each spoonful he felt himself slowly relax, letting go of the day’s accumulated tension and soothing the ache of yearning enough that with one of his more ambitious projects, he would once again be able to ignore the worst of it tomorrow.

Approximately half an hour into the movie, the jarring ring of his door bell startled him out of his state of relaxation. He frowned down at his ice cream tub and his state of dress. For a moment, he was sorely tempted to simply ignore the bell. At this hour, it could either be a worried Nathan checking in on him - had his state of mind really been that obvious? - or a delivery he needed to sign for.

The second ring decided for him and Harold paused the movie and slowly got to his feet, firmly pushing down the mild embarrassment rising in him. He truly did look quite ludicrous in John’s clothes, but either way, if it was a delivery he would likely never see the person again and if it turned out to be Nathan... He’d tease him, but his best friend had seen him in worse states over the decades of their acquaintance and Harold him as well. Clutching the tub in one hand, he shuffeled along the hallway to the door and opened it with a displeased frown he couldn’t quite hide. Until he saw his late-night visitor.

The ice cream tub hit the parquet with a dull thud but he didn’t notice that he’d dropped it, staring at the figure in front of him. His brain was sending a barrage of error messages, unable to process the impossible image in front of him.

Harold blinked. Stared. Blinked some more.

“Hey Harold.” that beloved, rough voice cut through the fog in his mind. Soulful grey-blue eyes glowing with love, John smiled down at him softly, adoringly and just a little bit smug before stepping inside. A warm, calloused hand gently pried his own loose from where it held the doorknob in a death grip and didn’t let go as the door clicked shut. Only when John’s hand gave his a gentle squeeze and he uttered a quiet “Surprise.” did his brain begin to catch on.

John was home. He could feel a slow smile spreading over his face and his heart was speeding, sending pure joy through him. Somehow, John was home!

The duffle bag John had been carrying joined the forgotten ice cream on the floor when Harold flung himself into his arms as forcefully as he could, surprised when the latter actually stumbled a step back and made a small “Oof.” noise, even as his arms wrapped around Harold and held him tightly. Overwhelmed with joy, he laughed softly into John’s throat and simply basked in the unexpected gift of his presence for long minutes while his partner pressed kisses into his hair.

Finally he made himself pull back enough to kiss him properly, lips joining in a blissful, familiar dance. “John.” he whispered roughly against them before pulling back a bit further, a niggle of worry filtering in from the back of his mind.

“I am inordinately happy to see you, my dear, but why are you home this early? Are you alright? Did you get injured? Are you...”

John interrupted him by pulling him into another drawn-out kiss, running his hand slowly through his hair when they parted again. “I’m fine, Harold. Just collected a lot of vacation time before we met, thought I’d use my last chance to cash it in, come home early and surprise you.”

“And what an excellent surprise indeed!” He buried his own hand in John’s silky salt-and-pepper hair to pull him back down. “Welcome home, my love.” he murmured, kissing him breathless and bringing that beautiful, dazed smile of his into view.

“Hmmm. My kind of welcome.” Suddenly his loving smile developed an edge of fond amusement. “Why are you in my sweatshirt and sweatpants?”

With a small, embarrassed groan, he buried his rapidly heating face in the crook of John’s neck. There his soldier was, looking handsome as ever wearing his service uniform, the strict cut accentuating his lean but muscular figure rather flatteringly, while Harold had momentarily completely forgotten the hilariously oversized clothes he had borrowed. “I missed you and I was watching Netflix as a distraction.” he confessed reluctantly.

John held him tighter and chuckled softly, fondly, and Harold felt chapped lips pressing against his forehead and temple.

“Well, I think you look pretty cute in them. Very... cuddly.” he rasped into his ear. “Though I’ve got it on good authority that you’d look even better out of them.” he continued, flirty.

It was easy to forget his embarrassment in favour of retorting in the playfully dry tone he always used in response to John’s cheesy flirtation. “Oh? And on whose authority might that be, Mr. Reese?”

“Just some guy, goes by the name of John Reese. He’s pretty smitten with you.”

“Hm, is that so? I suppose we’d nonetheless have to test this hypothesis to assess its accuracy, wouldn’t you agree?”

In lieu of a verbal response, John pulled him tighter, pressing their bodies flush to each other before a flicker of curiosity stole itself onto his handsome face. “Do you’ve got something in your pocket or are you just doubly happy to see me?”

Whatever retort he might have had fled Harold’s mind when he realised what exactly John was referring to. Along with his state of dress, he had also briefly forgotten about the small, simple, black box he still carried in his pocket. A spike of panic shot through him and he could feel the colour draining from his face.

John’s lovely voice radiated concern now. “Harold? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s... I...” he swallowed thickly, trying to calm his racing heart, to no avail. He took a small step back, regretfully breaking their embrace but keeping their fingers laced together, squeezing John’s gently in reassurance while he took a deep breath.

The day after he’d bought the ring, he’d still been in an enduring state of mild panic when he had arrived at work. Nathan had only laughed at him. “ _You know he’ll say yes.”_ he’d said. “ _John practically worships the ground you walk on. He’d burn the whole world to the ground if you were the one asking him to do it. The only reason he might not answer right away would be if he’s too busy kissing you first.”_

And he did know, knew there was no doubt that John would indeed say yes. He had just assumed he would have another three months to prepare himself. There was still the option to tell John it was nothing, ask him to let it go and he would. He could still have that time. But like Nathan had said, there was nothing to be afraid of, was there? He loved John with all his soul and knew, amazingly, his love was returned in equal measure, knew that neither of them would want to spend their life without the other.

And in a way, wasn’t now the perfect moment? Perhaps not as romantic as he had planned and he certainly hadn’t anticipated that he’d be wearing John’s old work-out clothes. But they were home, John had come back early to surprise him, they were happy and in private, giving the moment something vastly more intimate than any purely romantic gesture ever could have and even his ridiculous attire only added to the intimacy.

“Harold?”

Having made his decision, he looked up into John’s stunning eyes, trying to keep his lasting panic out of his expression. He held onto John’s hand like a life line.

“Everything is perfectly alright, my dear. There is just... I have been meaning to ask... that is... the matter I’d like to address... Oh, I am making a rather terrible job of this.” With a frustrated sigh, he paused for a moment to take another calming breath. Of course John, his dear, perfect John, waited patiently for him to continue. “I confess I had planned this quite differently and your delightful surprise has thrown me for something of a loop. And going down on one knee as tradition dictates provides certain logistical difficulties for me.”

At the mention of going down on one knee he saw John’s eyes widen, a mixture of disbelief and hope filling them. When he pulled the box out of his pocket and watched the joy and amazement bleeding into his expression, he knew he had come to the right decision.

“You already know that you mean the world to me, that you are beyond everything I could have ever dreamed of and that some days, I can still hardly believe how immeasurably fortunate I am to have you in my life, just like you already know that I wish for nothing more than to spend the rest of it with you. So I’m afraid a simple question will have to suffice.” he continued, voice starting to shake just slightly with nerves, hands following suit as he opened the box to present the ring to the love of his life. “John Reese, will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”

For the fraction of a second, John stared at him like he himself must have done when he had seen him in his doorway, then he was drawn into a deep yet soft kiss. One that, to an outsider, must have looked passionate, but was filled to the brim with emotion and achingly sweet tenderness, so intimate it felt as though their very souls were touching, like he could physically taste John’s love for him and he poured his own out into the kiss. It left his heart racing and randomly skipping beats, left him breathless and week-kneed.

“Shall I take that as a yes then?” he teased, sweetly affectionate and breathy.

John’s voice was trembling and even rougher than usual. “Yes!” Another kiss, short and sweet. “Oh god, Harold, yes! Of course, yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!” Then he laughed, joyful, watery and overwhelmed, one of the most beautiful sounds Harold had ever had the pleasure of hearing. “I’m going to marry you.” he whispered reverently as though Harold had presented everything he had ever dreamt of on a silver platter for him to take. Harold _had to_ kiss him again, sharing his joy and relief and the giddiness.

When they parted this time, he stepped back again, just enough to take John’s left hand in his, prying the ring from its box, the latter of which dropped to the floor, just as forgotten as the melting ice cream and the duffle bag. Slowly, he slid it onto his fiancé’s ring finger, turning it until the tiny diamond was perfectly centred on top before pressing a soft kiss next to it. When he looked up, he saw a few tears leaving gleaming, wet streaks on John’s awed face.

“I love you.”

He kissed one of them away. “I love you too, my dear.” It did not seem like nearly a strong enough word to adequately convey even a fraction of the true extend of his feelings for John, but he knew his fiancé understood. His fiancé. His John. “You know,” he added, “this development holds another benefit I hadn’t even considered thus far. You know I’ve always found the term ‘boyfriend’ somewhat juvenile. Fiancé is a vast improvement.”

The man in question chuckled warmly. “Yeah, fiancé’s got a nice ring to it. But I’ve got a feeling I’m gonna like ‘husband’ even better.”

He couldn’t help but grin back. “All in due time, my love. But for now, I believe there was a certain hypothesis requiring practical exploration?”

A very familiar heat seeped into his fiancé’s loving gaze and Harold entwined their fingers, feeling the outline of the engagement ring, making their way hand in hand towards their bedroom so he could welcome his soldier home properly.

* * *

 

It was a week after getting that surprising call from John, telling him Harold wouldn’t come into work for a few days, that he saw his best friend’s car pull up in front of IFT’s office building just after he himself had walked in. He watched as - unsurprisingly - the soldier got out first and opened the door for Harold. Nathan was glad to see him once again in a suit with a colour combination that would’ve looked... _daring_ on anyone other than his eccentric friend. John’s usual dark suit was accompanied by a row of dark hickies on his neck and he smirked, knowing he would find some on Harold as well and could tease him about them.

A wide grin spread across his face when he saw the morning sunlight catch on John’s left hand - of course he had said yes, he had _told_ Harold to stop fretting about it for weeks. He was just about to walk back outside to greet them and offer his congratulations when he saw John bend down and kiss him, both of them almost radiating contentment and happiness. They deserved it!

He had never believed in true love, not until Harold had met John. The way those two looked at each other - had from the very beginning and still did today - it could be nothing else. He and Olivia had never looked at each other like this, maybe that was the reason their marriage had fallen apart.

Outside, Harold and his fiancé parted with obvious reluctance and his old friend just threw a quick glance at the building, not spotting Nathan, before he physically dragged the now grinning soldier back to the car. After watching them drive off, Nathan continued on his way to his office, chuckling to himself.

He figured his congratulations would have to wait a few more days.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!!!!! I hope you liked it? Comments give me life!!! :)


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